Sephora
by Synthetic Voice
Summary: Actually a snippet from a larger work that was never completed - Sephora is a fallen angel who would've interacted with another character that was related to Constantine, so this is set within that fictional universe.


The angel fell, fell from Heaven. It didn't stop at Earth, just fell straight through - one or two humans might've felt it, a few souls strapped themselves onto the hurtling mass of feathers and flesh, but mostly, the world went right on chugging along on its track. The angel fell without much notice from anyone, aside those who were waiting for it.

The angel fell, fell straight to Hell. It had been cast out from Heaven, cast out by its own kind for its desires, which no angel was allowed to have. Desires, what does an angel need of desires? Its lot is to serve the Lord, and naught else. But this angel strove to defy this creed, and thus it was flung from the splendor and comfort of its natural habitat, and fell into the fiery pits of the abyss.

It struck the ground, if the soil in Hell can be called that, as it is ever changing, ever moving, ever molding and deforming, and lay there, dazed, confused. Slowly, it raised its head - the tendrils of hair leaking from the head were black, scorched by its fall. The hair had once been golden, had once been long and flowing. Now it was black, charred, and nearly gone. The halo that had graced its head had slid down, over its beautiful face, slipped down over the arched brows, the almond-shaped eyes, the budding lips, to come to a choking rest around the sloping, swan-like neck of the angel, becoming a glowing collar of servitude.

It raised up on its elbows, eyes warily surveying the changing landscape around it. The only thing that did not change was the smell, the smell of charred flesh, of brimstone and sulfur. It raised itself up, its falcon wings, charred as much as its hair yet still intact, shielding from the intense heat of the eternal flames. Soon it was sitting, in short, slow movements, waiting. It knew that Hell was inhabited, and it had heard stories from the humans on Earth, or from its fellow angels in Heaven. Stories of obscurity, of deformed beings, of lust and longing, foreign emotions to the angels still in Heaven, of unmentionable horrors that brought both pain and pleasure to the receiver.

A noise - a brush of a movement. The angel snapped around with reflexes like an animal, for they were not humans - they were something more. Behind the angel was the first demon the angel would lay eyes on - more would come, thousands more, before eternity was through. This demon lay on its belly, crawling along the ground like a serpent - it was utterly skinless, with no eyes nor nose, being nothing but mouth. No limbs aided it in its search for sustenance, just a languid form and a large cavity that served as a mouth. It was hideous, all the internal workings showing through - a machine half-finished by the Creator, and then thrown aside after a fatal flaw was discovered. This one was not a Nephilim, it was a true demon, and the angel cowered in fear and revulsion, shying away as the demon slithered closer.

The angel backed right into another demon, and another, as more gathered around, the aroma of divine flesh and fresh meat tainting the sulfuric atmosphere. The angel's fingers were scraping at the collar around its neck - it had just realized it was there, and it was desperate to remove it. It was the one thing keeping it in Hell, keeping it tied to the soil of the abyss. It scraped at the collar, but it was so tightly cinched around its neck that it couldn't get a grip, but only clawed its flesh red and bloody. The demons around it were much like the first, yet some were more evolved - limbs, eyes, or an eye, grew forth from the mass of organs and meat. Finally, a Nephilim stepped forward, leaning towards the angel.

The Nephilim are a race all their own. Spawned from the coupling of angels and humans, they were dismissed from the company of both, and found havens only in Hell, accepted for their ability to tap into the Earthly plane more easily than true demons. They brought souls to Hell, and brought them by the barrel-full. This particular Nephilim was Jezebel, born of a succubus and a human male. Her skin was red-tinted, the hair long and black like a waterfall of tar. Her eyes were black, with yellow rings around cat-eye pupils; the budded mouth, with juicy lips, the teeth sharp as knives. Her body was curvaceous, voluptuous in ways a human form could never be. Jezebel reached one hand out to the angel, stroking its cheek in a familiar and comforting manner, all whilst smirking and glancing at her demonic brethren around her.

"Shall we give it a chance to speak its piece before we have our fun, brothers?" Her voice was a seductive whisper, like a wind through trees. The angel shuddered with desire, something it had become all too fond of. It didn't realize the chance Jezebel was offering it - all it cared was that she never stop touching it. Jezebel moved closer to the angel, stroking down its chest, where it could be either male or female, its nether regions, free of genetalia, no specific form that was forced on this creature; that was part of its beauty. The angel shuddered, its eyes closed, mouth opened partly in ecstasy. Jezebel's juicy lips opened in a giggle that would make any man feel insufficient.

"Well? What say you, Acerice? Lope? Zceril? None to speak, then let it have a voice." She pushed the angel away cruelly, throwing it into the dirt of the Hellish soil. It cried out, the first true noise that it had made since landing in Hell. Jezebel stood tall, the other demons encircling her feet, some of the smaller ones being so bold to entangle themselves upwards along her legs and rest on her shoulders. Her tail lashed with excitement - it wasn't often Heaven gave them such succulent treats to feast upon. The angel was drawing itself inward, protecting itself with its wings, pulling its limbs around its incredibly thin form.

"Speak, if you have words and a mind to - else, we'll begin our...ministrations, tender as they may not be." Jezebel laughed again, rousing a chorus of sandpaper on skin sounds from the demons lying around her. The angel covered its ears from the sound, but it was to no avail - the sound ran through its skin as well as through its ears. It screamed, screamed loud, and long, and hard. The scream flew through the air, causing the laughter to increase, to grow - and this symphony of Hell lasted for the better part of half a day, until the vocal cords of the angel died, and Jezebel hushed the demon chorus.

"You have a mind, but no words any longer. Perhaps thine tongue is in need of refreshment - Acerice, fetch the poor thing water." The demon slithered off, one limb reaching forth to scoop from a puddle on the floor of Hell. Acerice then slithered closer to the angel, offering what it held pooled in its clawed hand. The angel, trusting completely, leaned forward and sipped from the hand, expecting cool, refreshing water to be quenching and revitalizing, but soon it was spitting it out onto the ground, raking its tongue with what little nails it had left.

"How dare you spit on our hospitality. The water of Hell is a delicacy, I'll have you know - can't help that everything here is infused with sulfur." Jezebel gave one short laugh, then slowly lowered down to her knees, and crawled towards the trembling angel, who tried to scoot further away, but the chorus surrounded the angel and the demon, creating a circle from which neither could escape. The demon crept closer to the angel, every muscle working to make her nude form bend and conform to a feline movement. A growl emitted from her throat stirred desire in the angel once more, and for the first time, the angel hated, if it knew what it felt, it hated the desire Jezebel made it feel. It opened its mouth, trying to speak, but its vocal chords were shot and useless. Jezebel stopped and giggled again.

"You wish to speak?" The angel nodded. "I can give you your voice back, but you have to give me something in return." The angel, glanced around, having no idea what the demon would want - finally, it looked back to Jezebel. She grinned widely, knowing exactly what she wanted.

"Angelic eyes are a rare treat...I will give you your voice, for your eyes." The angel was taken aback, hiding in its wings - its eyes, give her its eyes?! The pain it would endure, and then to be robbed of sight, unable to ever see the color, the beauty, to never weep at the sight of it, to never...but what was the beauty in Hell? None. What was the color? None. There was naught to be had in this horrid landscape, this abyss. The pits, the fire, the torture, the lament...there was nothing to see, nothing to behold. A voice would shed more light then the eyes could ever take in. Jezebel lay on her stomach, watching the angel's thought process, intrigued at the intensity of thought and the speed, how intelligent this bird of paradise was. The angel peeked out from its wings, staring straight at Jezebel, for Jezebel, to Jezebel. Its reply was in its gaze.

"So be it." Jezebel crawled, slithered to the angel, taking it in her arms, caressing it into a frenzy of passion, kissing and biting its soft, malleable lips, fingers stroking the smooth skin of its face, tracing around its eyes...then plucked them sharply from the angel's sockets. It screamed, screamed for the pain of having its eyes torn from its face...then stopped, realizing it could speak. The sound emitting from its throat was more than proof that speech was capable. After a few careful sounds, it put forth what seemed to be a thought-out plan.

"My name, or what I was known by in Heaven, is Sephora. I was one of the choir angels, and a Chair angel. I was thrown...thrown from the gates because..." The eyeless sockets seemed to be looking up as the lips poured forth their story. The hands took root in the soil, gripping though the collar kept it bound to Hell. Suddenly, in a fit of rage, the details of the angel's fall came out in a torrent. "I was thrown from the gates, the pearly gates, because I wanted to love, I wanted to love a human. A human, any human, all humans. I wanted what God had. I wanted love." Sephora would've cried, would've raised those delicate, thin hands to its face and wept, but its eyes were gone, and it no longer had the ability.

"Yes, as did most. Most want what God has - but God is jealous, and not forgiving." Jezebel explored Sephora's body like before, no region out of bounds, her fingers enacting pleasured noises from Sephora's lips. Then the touches were gone, and the angel was longing for more. The head searched, hands reaching out, finding sticky, slime covered organs, mouths with teeth, bony limbs, muscles, everything was skinless and moist, wet with fluids and blood. The teeth tore into the angel's flesh, kissing it, caressing it, breaking it, bleeding it. New holes were torn in the flawless skin, the eyes looked towards the Heavens, not imploring the God who had abandoned it, but more in anger, or perhaps gratitude, for in a sick and twisted way, the God that Sephora had been jealous of had given the angel what it wanted. Desire, in all its forms, and in another way, had turned it into a lesson, yet it was one for which the angel would never be forgiven.

They tore off its wings, pulled Sephora limb from limb, stretching her sinews and muscles out over the flames, drinking the juices of her body, licking, gnawing, chewing, biting, all over until she was gone and there was nothing of Sephora that was visible. She was gone into the bellies of the chorus demons, low to the ground as they slithered away back to their holes and crevices in Hell. The only demon who stayed behind was Jezebel, who was standing in the filth of the left overs of Sephora, her feet planted firmly in the dirt, infused with the fluids and bits of flesh of the angel. One finger with its claw was pressed to her plump lips in thought, and then she spoke a word of power, of power that she drew from the heart of Hell. And before her there was a new demon.

It had black wings, wings of a raven, and it wore belts upon belts of leather, made from the charred skin of the denizens of Hell. The jacket that covered its face was crafted from other pieces of human and demon flesh, making a durable yet disgusting piece of clothing. The hood covered over the top half of the demon's face, mostly the eyes, forcing the black hair to flow over the demon's right shoulder. The nose and mouth - a budding mouth - was visible, in a stoic manner. The only beauteous thing on the demon, besides its seemingly innocent appearance was a golden collar, choking the demon's throat. It floated down, coming down to settle on the soil, in front of Jezebel. Jezebel smirked at her creation, pleased with its form. She reached forward and flicked back the hood of the new demon.

It screeched, and pulled the hood back over its face, holding it down, but not before Jezebel had seen what was under it. Eyeless sockets, red and pulsing with life, yet no orbs of any color or design made their home in the cavities. Jezebel laughed softly, then flicked one hand, causing Sephora's new form to vanish without a trace. Then Jezebel herself disappeared, moving her physical form to the cells, where the more interesting humans were kept, and where she could have more fun. One new play toy was one thing, but an eternity in Hell had so many possibilities, especially since she was the one on the giving end of the lash.


End file.
